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with a weight he felt he could scarce bear； and this weight it apparently was that still pressed out what remained in him of speakable protest。 〃I believe you； but I can't begin to pretend I understand。 NOTHING； for me； is past； nothing WILL pass till I pass myself； which I pray my stars may be as soon as possible。 Say； however；〃 he added； 〃that I've eaten my cake； as you contend； to the last crumbhow can the thing I've never felt at all be the thing I was marked out to feel？〃
She met him perhaps less directly； but she met him unperturbed。 〃You take your 'feelings' for granted。 You were to suffer your fate。 That was not necessarily to know it。〃
〃How in the worldwhen what is such knowledge but suffering？〃
She looked up at him a while in silence。 〃Noyou don't understand。〃
〃I suffer；〃 said John Marcher。
〃Don't； don't！〃
〃How can I help at least THAT？〃
〃DON'T！〃 May Bartram repeated。
She spoke it in a tone so special； in spite of her weakness； that he stared an instantstared as if some light； hitherto hidden； had shimmered across his vision。 Darkness again closed over it； but the gleam had already become for him an idea。 〃Because I haven't the right？〃
〃Don't KNOWwhen you needn't；〃 she mercifully urged。 〃You needn'tfor we shouldn't。〃
〃Shouldn't？〃 If he could but know what she meant！
〃Noit's too much。〃
〃Too much？〃 he still asked but with a mystification that was the next moment of a sudden to give way。 Her words； if they meant something； affected him in this lightthe light also of her wasted faceas meaning ALL； and the sense of what knowledge had been for herself came over him with a rush which broke through into a question。 〃Is it of that then you're dying？〃
She but watched him； gravely at first； as to see； with this； where he was； and she might have seen something or feared something that moved her sympathy。 〃I would live for you stillif I could。〃 Her eyes closed for a little； as if； withdrawn into herself； she were for a last time trying。 〃But I can't！〃 she said as she raised them again to take leave of him。
She couldn't indeed； as but too promptly and sharply appeared； and he had no vision of her after this that was anything but darkness and doom。 They had parted for ever in that strange talk； access to her chamber of pain； rigidly guarded； was almost wholly forbidden him； he was feeling now moreover； in the face of doctors； nurses； the two or three relatives attracted doubtless by the presumption of what she had to 〃leave；〃 how few were the rights； as they were called in such cases； that he had to put forward； and how odd it might even seem that their intimacy shouldn't have given him more of them。 The stupidest fourth cousin had more； even though she had been nothing in such a person's life。 She had been a feature of features in HIS； for what else was it to have been so indispensable？ Strange beyond saying were the ways of existence； baffling for him the anomaly of his lack； as he felt it to be； of producible claim。 A woman might have been； as it were； everything to him； and it might yet present him； in no connexion that any one seemed held to recognise。 If this was the case in these closing weeks it was the case more sharply on the occasion of the last offices rendered； in the great grey London cemetery； to what had been mortal； to what had been precious； in his friend。 The concourse at her grave was not numerous； but he saw himself treated as scarce more nearly concerned with it than if there had been a thousand others。 He was in short from this moment face to face with the fact that he was to profit extraordinarily little by the interest May Bartram had taken in him。 He couldn't quite have said what he expected； but he hadn't surely expected this approach to a double privation。 Not only had her interest failed him； but he seemed to feel himself unattendedand for a reason he couldn't seizeby the distinction； the dignity； the propriety； if nothing else； of the man markedly bereaved。 It was as if； in the view of society he had not BEEN markedly bereaved； as if there still failed some sign or proof of it； and as if none the less his character could never be affirmed nor the deficiency ever made up。 There were moments as the weeks went by when he would have liked； by some almost aggressive act； to take his stand on the intimacy of his loss； in order that it MIGHT be questioned and his retort； to the relief of his spirit； so recorded； but the moments of an irritation more helpless followed fast on these； the moments during which； turning things over with a good conscience but with a bare horizon； he found himself wondering if he oughtn't to have begun； so to speak； further back。
He found himself wondering indeed at many things； and this last speculation had others to keep it company。 What could he have done； after all； in her lifetime； without giving them both； as it were； away？ He couldn't have made known she was watching him； for that would have published the superstition of the Beast。 This was what closed his mouth nownow that the Jungle had been thrashed to vacancy and that the Beast had stolen away。 It sounded too foolish and too flat； the difference for him in this particular； the extinction in his life of the element of suspense； was such as in fact to surprise him。 He could scarce have said what the effect resembled； the abrupt cessation； the positive prohibition； of music perhaps； more than anything else； in some place all adjusted and all accustomed to sonority and to attention。 If he could at any rate have conceived lifting the veil from his image at some moment of the past （what had he done； after all； if not lift it to HER？） so to do this to…day； to talk to people at large of the Jungle cleared and confide to them that he now felt it as safe； would have been not only to see them listen as to a goodwife's tale； but really to hear himself tell one。 What it presently came to in truth was that poor Marcher waded through his beaten grass； where no life stirred； where no breath sounded； where no evil eye seemed to gleam from a possible lair； very much as if vaguely looking for the Beast； and still more as if acutely missing it。 He walked about in an existence that had grown strangely more spacious； and； stopping fitfully in places where the undergrowth of life struck him as closer； asked himself yearningly； wondered secretly and sorely； if it would have lurked here or there。 It would have at all events sprung； what was at least complete was his belief in the truth itself of the assurance given him。 The change from his old sense to his new was absolute and final： what was to happen had so absolutely and finally happened that he was as little able to know a fear for his future as to know a hope； so absent in short was any question of anything still to come。 He was to live entirely with the other question； that of his unidentified past； that of his having to see his fortune impenetrably muffled and masked。
The torment of this vision became then his occupation； he couldn't perhaps have consented to live but for the possibility of guessing。 She had told him； his friend； not to guess； she had forbidden him； so far as he might； to know； and she ha